Practice Makes Perfect
by Cyn Tolram
Summary: The cast of Witchblade are practicing for a celebrity basketball game, finding it hard to get the teamwork thing worked out.


Practice Makes Perfect 

**7/14/02**

**cyntolram@hotmail.com**

Rated PG-13

Time Frame: Season 2 after they all been injected with humor by Dr. Immo

Disclaimer: All rights to Witchblade and its characters belong to Top Cow and TNT. I am just an admirer of the athletic and braided Ian Nottingham as portrayed by Eric Etebari. 

Synopsis – The cast of Witchblade are practicing for a celebrity basketball game, finding it hard to get the teamwork thing worked out.

*****

"Okay…everyone. Can I have your attention? We only have this gym for a couple of hours." Began Gabriel Bowman, blowing the whistle he had around his neck, hanging right next to his retro peace sign necklace.

"Two hours too many if you ask me, young Bowman." Irons muttered under his breath.

"Well…that's two hours you wished you had in season two, isn't it Kenneth?" Gabe retorted. Irons rolled his eyes, then raised the only middle finger he had.

"I got uniforms made up…I want you to pick out your jersey. They have your names on it." He gestured to a box. Jake was the first to the box.

"Sponsored by Dalak's Nail Care Salon? What kind of sponsor is that, Gabriel? Never mind…with a name like Gabriel…why not? Not exactly a name for a straight guy." Jake sniped.

"How would you know, Closet Boy? Here…I brought some music for our practice. Here's a song for you, McCarty." Gabe cranked up his boom box. "YMCA" by the Village People.

"And if that don't keep your trap shut…I got a medley of show tunes for ya." Gabe retorted as Jake threw his jersey towards the bleachers. 

Ian, pretending to sneeze as he stood behind Jake, mumbled into his hand, "Faggot."

"Now…I'm gonna be over here on these bleachers with my laptop…surfing the net for some more sneak plays. We need all the help we can get. Get out there and warm up." Gabe shouted over the music and the groans.

Kenneth Irons was already monopolizing the court practicing the only shot he had…the sky hook…with his left hand. He kept throwing up bricks that bounced off the rim.

"Hey stumpy! Got any other shot?" Sara chided.

"You try this shot with only one of your malnourished little arms, then we'll see who's better." Irons was irritated. Danny started to shoot next to him.

"Hey, Woo. Any tips on being dead?"

"Yeah…Spend plenty of time in the ladies' locker rooms. You won't _believe what goes on in there." Woo replied with a knowing smile. Irons laughed conspiratorially, then looked over at Ian with a raised eyebrow._

"Don't go there, Dad…you sick bastard." _Shit…can't even lock the door anymore! Ian thought to himself. Remembering Danny had given Irons this piece of advice, Ian directed a cold stare to the Asian man._

"I'm gonna bury you, Woo." He threatened.

"Been there…done that." Woo chuckled.

The gym was starting to fill up with other cast mates and crew. The team's cheerleaders were going to be practicing also. A refreshment vendor was getting set up.

"Cold drinks…Get your cold drinks!" The old white haired guy yelled.

"Got a Coke?" Sara asked, needing her caffeine fix.

"No…just Jack Daniels on ice." The old guy replied. "Sara, honey?" 

"Dad?" She asked.

"No…Arnold Buck." He insisted.

"F_____!" Sara snorted.

"No Buck!"

Just then, Nottingham stepped up for a drink. Braided and in his puma gear.

"Hey Nottingham…That stuff'll kill ya. You got a death wish?" Sara joked.

"Kind of." Ian replied, buying a shot of Jack.

"That'll be four bucks, pal." The old guy replied.

"I'll give you more than what you asked for." Nottingham replied, batting his eyes innocently.

"Oh…here we go again." Sara turned her head.

CRASH…BAMMMMM!

"Arrggghhh! You broke my arm…dammit!" The old guy screamed in pain.

"Peasant!" Ian walked away.

Lazar just shook his head as Sara shrugged.

The team was beginning to practice their defense and carry out some of Gabe's secret plays. There was a reason these plays had been secret…and should remain so.

"Sara…Defense isn't stabbing people in the neck." Irons criticized.

"How would you know, Lefty? You couldn't shut down a lane if you were a pylon." She spat back. She executed a spin move on Irons and got around him easily.

"Nice leather pants, Sara. You're showing more crack than P-daddy." He yelled as she shot past him.

Sara tried to grab her pants and pull them up as she took her next shot from three-point land...missed it!

"Good one, Kenny!" Jake raised his hand to Irons for a high five. Missing it, Jake fell down with his momentum. Irons had used his right arm.

"Psych!" Irons laughed. He had slapped Jake on the butt on his way down to the floor.

"Leave my ass alone, Irons!" Jake brushed himself off as he stood. As he looked over at Irons, who was a distance away, he realized there was still something clinging to his butt cheek. He turned around quickly, almost giving himself whiplash.

"Hey…Irons---Get this thing off me!" Irons' severed hand was still grabbing Jake firmly.

"Thought you could use a hand." Irons started to laugh, but was getting turned on vicariously. His loose hand leaped off Jake's tasty rear and walked its way over to the nearby bleacher, jumping into a nice bowl of water complete with colored stones and a fish inside. It flipped Jake off as he looked on.

"You're a sick bastard, Irons!" Jake cursed.

The cheerleaders were gearing up.

"Woo…Woo…Woo!" A black man in the upper bleachers was yelling and waving his right arm. Danny turned his head.

"Who's that, man?" Jake asked.

"I think it's Arsenio Hall." Danny replied.

"I thought he was dead." Jake looked confused, like he was on most things.

"Dead doesn't mean forever, man." Danny shook his head knowingly, then passed the ball to Nottingham who took it to the hole in a slam-dunk.

"Maybe I should get my hair braided like that. Could help my game maybe." Jake thought out loud.

"Couldn't hurt your game…that's for sure. Wouldn't hurt your hair style either." Danny chuckled. Jake just glared back.

"Hey…Nottingham. That cheerleader over there…" Jake pointed to the dark haired Christine. "She's cute…but why does she have that silver duct tape around her neck? Is that a new fashion statement?"

Just then, a ball bounced out of bounds and slammed against Christine's head. THUNK! Her head rolled out onto the court and was promptly kicked under the bleacher by one of the players.

"Oh…never mind." Jake replied as Nottingham shrugged and nodded. "She must have _some head fake."_

Sara dribbled past Jake and Ian along the sideline. She heard a familiar voice calling from under the bleachers.

"You have very pretty eyes, Detective." Sara looked down and saw the head of Christine…speaking to her from under the lower step of the bleacher.

"Shut up, Christine!" Sara replied just as her good friend Vicki Po came to her rescue.

Whirrrrrrr! Vicki had cranked up a small circular saw, called a "Stryker Saw" used to cut open the cranium at an autopsy, and crawled under the bleachers after a screaming Christine. "Come here, Christine! Let me check out that frontal lobe." Vicki beckoned.

Sara nodded her head, raised one eyebrow, grimaced as her friend started her sideline procedure.

"Oh God, Vic! No blood on the court, please!" Sara trotted off.

Lazar swept by with a mop…cleaning up the mess as another cheerleader started her warm up.

"Don't…STOP! Don't…STOP! Don't…STOP!" The dark haired, one-eyed woman stood rigidly in front of the bleachers…not moving an inch…just yelling her mantra over and over again.

"Someone should shut her up, Chief!" Gabe replied, looking over at Sara, who promptly stuck a sword into the woman's throat.

Rinnngggggg! Sara's cell phone was ringing. _Who would be calling her here? She wondered._

"Speak!" She sniped, then heard the familiar voice on the other end.

"Way to recognize true evil, Sara!" Identifying the voice, she looked across the gym to spy Nottingham on the opposite side talking to her on his cell phone.

"Shut up, Nottingham!" Just then, Gabe's music switched to a new song.

Shot through the heart, 

_And you're to blame!_

_Honey, you give love_

_A bad name!_

Bon Jovi music played loudly across the gym.

"They're playing your song, Nottingham." She clicked off with a smile.

Gabe had called the team over to show them a new play. After explaining it in the huddle, they broke to execute the play, but not before Mobius expressed himself.

"Once we leave this huddle…there is no going back." Moby demanded.

"Yeah…whatever!" Gabe replied, grabbing Ian as the huddle broke apart.

"Why does he keep saying that? Dude is strange, man!" Gabe whispered.

"Tell me about it…" Ian agreed as he heard Jake's voice in the background yelling.

"Lazar…keep your hands off my ass! You're not even playing!"

Sara laughed as Lazar raised an eyebrow to her knowingly. Sara's attention went to center court as Ian ran off to execute a perfect slam-dunk. She pulled the Witchblade off her wrist. It was starting to turn her wrist green.

"Here Gabe…Hold this. This thing is starting to bug me." She tossed him the gauntlet, then turned back towards the court.

Gabe caught it…His eyes rolling back in his head…THUNK! He collapsed.

Stepping over Gabe's body, Danny headed over to the bleachers to take a break, sitting next to Vicki Po who had pulled a cigarette from her purse.

"You got a light, Danny?" She asked.

"Yeah." Danny retrieved his Zippo.

"I didn't know you smoked?" She asked.

"I don't. Not sure why I have this Zippo lighter." Danny questioned, having a déjà vu moment. "Don't let Nottingham see it. Every time I get a good flame…he wants to see how close he can get with his face and hands…really strange dude."

"Yeah…but cute, though." Vicki agreed. "I like the way he takes it to the hole."

Danny turned slowly toward the ME and wondered what she really meant by her last remark. Vicki just smiled as she blew smoke from her nostrils.

Just then, a black and tan rottweiler walked into the gym. Nottingham regarded the dog with disdain.

"Hey Sara."

"Hey Nottingham."

They both grabbed their heads in obvious pain from the many times _that exchange caused a migraine of déjà vu._

"Do you know who that dog belongs to? I think I know someone who has a dog just like that. He plays this damned Led Zepplin music all night." Ian asked still holding his braided head. _Maybe my braids are too tight, he thought._

"Can't help you there, pal. Sounds like chaos to me." She replied.

"Yeah…Maybe Kaos." Ian agreed.

"While I got you here, Ian. My friend Vicki might be interested in hooking up with you. She says she has a thing for dark, swarthy types." Sara poked him with her elbow as she bounced the ball in front of her.

"I dunno, Pez." He spied the brunette across the way, waving from the bleachers. He held up his right hand in a simple gesture and smiled back. "I think she's only interested in my brains…maybe just my frontal lobe at that." He muttered.

"You think? That'd be a first for Vic." She lied.

"Besides…What do we have in common?" He asked.

"Well…She didn't _orphan you…It's a start…and you __both see dead people." Sara smiled._

"There is _that…" Ian grabbed the ball from Sara and went for the hole. She loved seeing him do that._

"Okay…two hours is up!" Sara yelled as she looked up from her watch. "Let's clear out of here." Noticing Gabe was still lying on the floor near the bleachers, clutching the gauntlet in his hand, she yelled.

"Someone grab Coach Bowman over there…We can't leave him."

Sara and Ian were the last ones out the door. The gymnasium was dark except for light coming from the one open door into the hallway. Carrying some things for Sara, he walked out with her as she slipped the Witchblade onto her wrist.

"You miss Irons…don't you?" She asked.

"I'm learning not to. Mostly, I spend much of my time thinking of you…" Ian quietly responded.

"I'll bet you also spend an awful lot of time in the shower…Huh, Nottingham?" Gabe raised his head as he lay across Nottingham's shoulder, being carried like a sack of potatoes.

"Shut up, Gabriel!" Ian and Sara shouted in unison and laughed. It had been a good night. He couldn't get enough practice where Sara Pezzini was concerned.

_Practice makes perfect! Ian thought._

The End 


End file.
